Just Roommates
by dance-in-storms
Summary: Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark live together. It's a consensual, completely platonic, let's-split-the-rent kind of relationship. Or so they think. Fate, however, has different plans. Modern AU. Everlark.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey everyone!**

**I've decided to try my hand at an actual story instead of just one-shots, and after watching Catching Fire (twice), decided Peeta and Katniss would star in it. **

**Summary: ****Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark live together. It's a consensual, completely platonic, let's-split-the-rent kind of relationship. Or so they think. Fate, however, has different plans. Modern AU. Everlark.**

**Just a note, this will be M-rated in the future, so all you little ones... watch out!**

**The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins, I am merely playing with her characters.**

**Enjoy!**

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Chapter One

Peeta Mellark is almost done making dinner when there's a jiggling in the lock.

He turns down the heat under the soup and pops the sandwiches out of the panini grill before riffling through the cupboards for bowls unconcernedly. The stove and the broken air conditioning in their building, combined with the warm temperatures of early fall, have left him sweating. He rubs at the drops beading on his nose with the edge of his shirt.

There's only one other person besides him who has the key to his apartment, and she's not a threat.

(Well, at least not to him.)

Katniss Everdeen shoves the door open with a grunt, and he hears the rustling of grocery bags as she elbows inside. He laughs under his breath when he perceives a crash and a loud curse, followed up by a "I heard that, Mellark!" before she staggers her way into the kitchen and deposits her purchases on the floor. She looks frazzled: flyaway strands of hair have escaped the braid slung over her shoulder, and her cheeks are flushed.

"Heard what?" Peeta answers innocently as he wipes down the countertop with a rag before tucking it into the drawer below the silverware. He grabs a couple napkins and spoons and quickly sets the table.

"I heard you laughing." Katniss tosses her purse over the back of a nearby chair with a thud. She scrubs a hand across her forehead tiredly. "It's so freaking hot outside." She yanks the refrigerator open and pokes her entire head inside with a noise of relief.

Peeta moves to the groceries and, after systematically transferring them from the floor to the counter next to the sink, begins unpacking them. He notes that she's bought eggs and chocolate milk and a couple of other things he asked her to get earlier. "Me? Laugh? Never. Also, get your head out of the damn fridge, Everdeen, there's food that actually needs to go there."

Katniss withdraws her head and scowls at him, sticking out her tongue petulantly. "Shut it, Mellark." She obeys, however, and dances away to kick off her low heels. "I hate shoes. Coin won't let us wear anything but these torture devices, though." Katniss' job at the local community college teaching a forestry course is controlled by the rather dictatorial head of department Alma Coin.

"So I've heard," Peeta says drily, jabbing a spoon into the soup to taste. He smacks his lips in approval. "Soup's done. Wash your hands before dinner."

Katniss rolls her eyes but slips into the adjacent bathroom. He hears the brief sound of water running before she reappears; likewise, he cleans his hands thoroughly in the sink before ladling out two bowls of soup and arranging the sandwiches on plates. In the brief trips from stove to table, Katniss amuses herself by trying to make him stumble and drop something, yet he remains resolutely upright as he sets down the last dish and adjusts a crooked napkin.

He surveys the setting with a satisfied look as Katniss nudges him gently in appreciation. "Tomato soup and paninis? You've really done it, Peeta." He's pleased. She turns towards him. "You know," she begins somberly, "Just for this, I think I might be in love with you."

Peeta is unable to hold back his laughter. "Good one, Katniss."

She widens her eyes in an expression of mock astonishment. "Excuse me? I just professed my undying love for you and you throw it away like _that?_" She snaps her fingers to emphasize her point.

He feigns surprise. "Oh, did you think this food was all for you? Because I wasn't really planning on sharing –"

When her punch flies forward, he's expecting it, and dodges to the side. "Chill out, Katniss," he says, but he's smiling. Her mouth twitches upward after a few seconds and she grins cheekily back at him.

"You're lucky I like you," she says, collapsing into her chair.

"_Everyone_ likes me," Peeta replies casually, taking his seat opposite her and taking a hulking bite of sandwich.

"Sadly, that's true." She drags her bowl forward and dunks the edge of the sandwich into it, glancing up with a smirk. "Some girls a little too much."

Peeta reddens and her mouth quirks triumphantly upwards. She's right, though: Peeta's job as a high school history professor seems to draw almost twice as many female students than male, and every single one of said female students always gives the impression of needing more "help" than even feasibly possible. In multiple classes, it also appears that his face is more of a subject of interest than whatever topic he's attempting to cover that day.

"You're only using me for my unparalleled cooking ability," Peeta teases when his blush fades and he swallows. "And for my body, of course. Well, I take that back. If that was the case, I would have taken your love confession much more seriously. I mean, it's hard not to fall for _this._"

Katniss glances him up and down and makes a disgusted expression. "You're not my type, Mellark."

"Please. I work out, I'll have you know. Doesn't that make me pretty much every girl's type?"

She snorts. "No. And you _smell._"

His jaw drops. "Katniss Everdeen! I'm offended you would ever mock my testosterone-fueled bodily functions in such a way! I have worked _hard_ for these abs!"

"Right," she retorts. "The only reason you're even remotely ripped is because of your fantastic genes."

After a pause: "I'm not sure if you're complimenting me, or hitting on my dad."

She giggles but doesn't answer. They finish dinner with small talk and she helps clear the table before he brings out dessert – a little surprise he cooked up (literally) once he got home from work.

"Chocolate cake? Are you fucking kidding me?"

He shrugs and opens a couple drawers, looking for a knife. "I don't know about you, but this week has sucked."

"It has," Katniss agrees, watching him cut the dessert. "I mean, the first week back at school is always hell, but – this one takes the cake."

"Which is why I made one," Peeta jokes. Katniss groans but perks up when he hands her a hefty slice on a plate.

"God, you're my best friend."

"I know," he says, chuckling as she stuffs her mouth. "How attractive, Katniss."

She winks and swallows the hefty bite. "Hey, best friends don't judge."

"Best friend? Who said anything about you being my best friend? I thought that award went to Finnick."

"Ah, fuck off, Mellark, you know it's true."

"Fine, you got me. How long has it been, like… nineteen years?"

"Get out of here!"

"I'm serious, kindergarten, remember?"

"Shit, you're right!"

In kindergarten, their friendship had started when the teacher brought in a pet snake one morning. The boys had found it impossibly cool; most of the girls had screamed and hidden and debated crying, but Katniss had had the bravery to touch the snake and even wind it around her shoulders. Peeta had watched the slight, dark-haired girl with the choppy braid in awe as she placed the slithery reptile back into the cage with not even a shudder, and his young, carefree mind had decided then and there that Katniss Everdeen was going to be his best friend. However, when he approached her during recess with an invitation to play in the sandbox:

"And then you punched me!"

Katniss burst out laughing. "I thought you had cooties, I'm sorry! I was five years old!"

Katniss had been sent to the principal's office and Peeta had sulked (but refused to cry) for a day before firmly deciding that yes, he still wanted to be friends with the small, violent girl.

That was the first time he'd baked for her.

His father owned a bakery, and Peeta had been learning the ropes almost as soon as he could walk. The afternoon of the playground incident, he'd gone home and helped with a batch of simple chocolate cookies, sneaking a couple off the tray after his dad left the room. He brought them to Katniss the next day, wrapped clumsily in a paper towel, and she had stared suspiciously at both him and the cookies for almost five minutes straight before accepting them and running away to the sandbox.

"And then you sat down, and started like, devouring the cookies. And I watched you for a couple minutes, but then you finished two of them, and you looked up and shouted at me to ask if I was going to be there anytime in the next year."

Baking for Katniss has become a tradition ever since. It isn't close to anything romantic, just something that he does, because he enjoys doing it, and because she enjoys the results. They're best friends, it's what best friends do.

Hence the cake.

They both polish off second slices before Peeta pushes back from the table and stands, patting his full stomach contentedly. "I gotta get all these dishes cleaned before I start next week's lesson plan."

Katniss stretches and yawns. "I have to do mine too. I think I'll shower first, though."

She trundles off to her room, and moments later he hears water rushing through the pipes in the walls as she turns on the shower in her adjoining bathroom.

People always ask him if he and Katniss are dating. He always laughs and responds in the negative, because it's just too funny: he and Katniss, _date?_ That would never happen.

They're just friends. Who live together. But like he tells everyone (and presumes that she does the same), there is nothing between them. Sure, they have boundaries – for example, he doesn't walk around with anything less than pants on, and she likewise covers up appropriately – but it's simply two childhood friends trying to afford an apartment on teacher's wages. A win-win situation.

Yes, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark live together. But it's a consensual, completely platonic, let's-split-the-rent kind of relationship.

Or so they think. Fate, however, has other plans.

* * *

**I know it's pretty short, but I just wanted you guys to get a little taste of their relationship, the set-up, their background, etc. Kind of hastily written because I was so excited to get it up, but tell me what you think! **

**Reviews are peppermint bark (because it's close to the holidays!)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey everyone!**

**Thank you so much for your incredibly positive reaction to chapter one... and a special thanks to everyone who followed/favorited! I promise I'll try to respond to all of your reviews by the middle of the week, but I've been so busy writing this chapter for you. It's almost three times as long, so I hope you enjoy!**

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Chapter Two

Peeta wakes at 8:23 am, relishing the sleep he has so blissfully enjoyed. Usually he's out of bed and ready by seven, at work by seven-thirty. The lethargy of Saturday mornings is never lost on him, however, and he stretches languidly and allows himself another ten lazy minutes in his warm blankets. He's just picked up the book on his nightstand – _Other Voices, Other Rooms_ by Truman Capote, a current favorite – and turned to the page he bookmarked last night when there's a banging on his door, followed by Katniss demanding him to get up.

"I _am_ up," Peeta calls back, although it's technically untrue – he's _awake_, but still lying down.

"Get your ass into the shower, then. I'm hungry."

Reluctantly he tucks the bookmark back into the book. He swings his legs out of bed and pulls at his boxer briefs, which have ridden up on his thighs. "Fine, I'm coming."

When he opens the door, Katniss is standing there, arms crossed across her chest. Her hair is braided over her shoulder and she's already dressed in jean shorts and a tank top. He grins at her obvious exasperation and leans on the doorframe, mimicking her posture. "Morning, sunshine."

She rolls her eyes. "Put a shirt on, idiot."

He arches an eyebrow (because it drives her crazy). "But you just told me to get in the shower. Wouldn't that be counterproductive?"

Katniss glares at him, but he's a good four inches taller than her and refuses to be intimidated. After a couple minutes of silent impasse, he crosses his eyes and sticks out his tongue, and she hits him in the arm.

"_Dammit_, Peeta, you're so impossible!"

"That's a bit hypocritical, coming from you… _you're_ the one telling me to do all of these conflicting things."

She scowls. "Just… get in the fucking shower, okay?"

"Sir, yes sir." He salutes. She tries to punch him as he passes, but her fist bounces off his stomach.

"_Shit_, you little – are you _flexing_, Mellark?"

He laughs but doesn't reply as he saunters into the bathroom, closing the door and turning on the water. Over the rush of the pipes, he hears her shout: "You keep being an annoying bastard and I'm canceling Saturday morning breakfast for the rest of my life!"

"You would never!" he calls back before stripping off his underwear and stepping into the shower. She gives an frustrated, indecipherable yell in response as he pulls the curtain closed. He chuckles and lets the warm spray soak his body; upon the opening of his shampoo bottle, the clean, fresh scent of Dove permeates the air, and he breathes in the familiar smell and relaxes contentedly against the tiled wall.

* * *

Saturday morning breakfasts have been a tradition between them since junior year in high school. Peeta receives his license in late February, and he begins picking up Katniss (she has a couple months before she can get hers) before school starts each morning to go out and eat at a café just five minutes' drive away. He orders a strawberry smoothie and a bagel, and she gets a cappuccino and a cheese bun. He pays on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and she on Tuesdays and Thursdays (he would pay all five days, because Katniss' family isn't as financially stable as his is, but she's too stubborn). When she can drive on her own, they take turns giving each other rides to save gas money.

It's harder in college, because their schools are an hour apart, but they manage to make it work. They meet at the cozy coffee shop every Saturday morning at eleven to catch up over their respective meals, and when finals roll around, they lug in their books and he quizzes her on a bunch of forestry terms that he doesn't really understand and she returns the favor with history. In fact, some of his favorite memories are of her with his huge textbook in her lap, laughing as she tries to pronounce _Teotihuacan _or _Kyrgyzstan _or _K'iche_ and throwing cheese bun crumbs at him when he teases her about it.

And then her dad leaves.

It is a chilly March morning. He can still remember her exact expression when she stumbles into the café, thirty minutes late and wrapped in a coat, a beanie sloppily balanced on her head and her cheeks pale despite the cold. "Hey, I didn't think you were coming –" he starts, but upon studying her more closely he realizes there's a reason for her tardiness. It takes him half an hour and two cheese buns to coax the story out of her.

"My dad's gone," she croaks. Her grey eyes are haunted, staring at the plate in front of her, which is covered in broken-apart cheese buns pieces. He's never seen her look like this, ever – not even when her mom got laid off, nor when her sister, Prim, had to get a job waitressing at fifteen to help pay the bills. "He's gone, Peeta."

"What do you mean, gone?" he says, the dread coursing through him, in time to his pulse. "You mean, he's left? Where'd he go? Why'd he leave?"

"I don't know!" She wrenches her hands from his, and clutches at her hat, crazed. "I don't know where he went, I don't know why! Prim called me this morning; Mom's in hysterics. Apparently he didn't even leave a proper note, just a hundred dollars and a slip of paper with _I'm sorry_ written on it, and he's gone, Peeta. He's gone." She takes a deep, shuddering breath, betraying just how close she is to crying. "He's gone, and my mom doesn't have a job. I have no way to pay for Prim next year. I'm graduating and I won't even be able to afford my own place, much less her education. I don't know what to do, Peeta. I have no money to support my own sister through college. I'm a terrible person. She's going to hate me. _I _hate me." Her shoulders are shaking as she weeps.

"No, stop that now." He leans forward and tips her quivering chin up so he can see the tears sliding down her cheeks and wipes them away with the pad of his thumb. "Katniss, I'm so sorry."

"_Sorry_ won't change anything," she replies bitterly, and when he can't help wincing at the harshness of her words, she softens immediately. "I'm… that was uncalled for. You're just being a good friend, and here I am, a complete bitch. God, Peeta, I don't deserve you. I'm sorry." She laughs resentfully at the irony, but more tears fall. He hands her a napkin, which she uses to swipe at her face angrily.

After she's calmed down some, he continues. "Katniss, you're not a terrible person. And Prim's not going to hate you." He ignores her disbelieving snort. "She knows that noneof this is your fault. She's not going to put all the responsibility for this on you."

Katniss opens her mouth to contradict him, but he shushes her. "Look, I know Prim, and I know you do too, even better than me, so will you stop your damn self-pitying for _one moment_ to listen?" Back then, he rarely swore, so the curse stops her in her tracks. "I know you're blaming yourself for this, but you're not going to get anywhere if you keep sitting here whining about how Prim's going to hate you and your life is over."

He's trying to get her to stop crying, because she never does, and seeing it now is breaking his heart. It works, and she straightens, flashing anger, pressing her lips together. Peeta holds up a hand to stem the flow of indignance that he knows she's about to release.

"Hear me out. Your dad left you." Her metallic eyes crack. He falters only slightly at the painful jolt it gives him. "You can't possibly think that was your fault. I've met your family, and I can't fathom why _anyone_ would want to leave you and Prim and your mom; you're the best people I know. _He's_ to blame, not you, and he's gone, so you can call him as many dirty things as you want and he won't be able to hear you." She quirks a small smile at that, although she sniffles, and it encourages him to keep going. "As for not being able to pay for Prim's college, bullshit. You're smarter than ninety percent of the people in this country; you can get a job."

"I won't be able to pay for her college and my own apartment, though," she replies stubbornly.

He waves a hand dismissively. "You can move in with me, then."

When her eyes widen almost comically, he realizes how his suggestion must have sounded and backtracks quickly, his confident façade falling apart in an instant. "No, no, no, not like that!" he stammers. "No, of course not, I just – you're my best friend, and – shoot, that really did come out wrong, didn't it? I meant, like, platonically. Completely platonically. No ulterior motives. Just sharing an apartment until you're – I mean, we're – able to afford our own places, or maybe until Prim finishes college – either one, it's completely your choice – not that you have to accept or anything, but I…" He trails off at her skeptically amused face. "I just thought it would be a good idea," he finishes lamely, already regretting it.

She considers it, sitting back and picking at the remains of the cheese bun on her plate, all tears gone. For a moment she looks like she'll agree, but suddenly her eyes narrow at him. "Wait. You're not trying to be charitable by doing this, are you? You know I hate when you do that."

He does, and he's forgotten. "I… no, Katniss, I'm not trying to be _charitable_. I know you hate that." Fidgeting under her unrelenting gaze: "Okay, fine. Maybe a little. But," he adds, "it's not just that. You're not the only one who's broke right now – I'm a senior in college, too. It's not like I have loads of money. It would be nice for me to be able to split rent."

Peeta can see her mind working, weighing out the options. He knows exactly when she relents – it's when she picks up a mutilated portion of cheese bun from her plate and stuffs it into her mouth.

"Fine," she says.

* * *

It's Peeta's turn to drive, and Katniss' turn to pay. He pulls the car into a coveted spot – right by the front of the small building – and yanks the key out of the ignition. Once inside, they find that their usual table is occupied.

"I'll go order, and you find us somewhere to sit, okay?" Katniss knows Peeta's meal like the back of her hand, so he's not worried about reminding her. While she heads towards the front, Peeta searches the relatively crowded room for an empty spot. His sweeping scrutiny alights on a table in the corner, but just as he's about to head over, he catches sight of a familiar head of tousled hair.

"Finnick!" Peeta ignores the disapproving glances of two elderly women at his side and weaves his way towards the man whose attention he's just caught. Finnick Odair and his long-term girlfriend Annie Cresta are seated near the center of the room, sharing a breakfast plate and surreptitiously playing footsie, when Peeta reaches them.

Annie smiles. "Peeta! How are you?"

"Hey, Annie." Peeta leans down to give her a quick hug. "I'm great. I hope you're doing well, too?"

She pushes a strand of brown hair behind her ear. "Never been better." The look she passes Finnick makes it evident that indeed, nothing has ever been better. They stare at each other for long enough that Peeta shifts uncomfortably and accidentally bumps the table, which makes Finnick look up sheepishly. "Sorry, man."

Annie blushes, and Finnick continues, "Hey, it really has been forever, though. What's up with you?"

Peeta shrugs. "Not much. Just survived the first week of school."

"It can only go uphill from there, right?" Finnick laughs. With Peeta's acquiescent nod, the bronze-haired man adds: "I feel you, though. The rush started; this week's been crazy."

Peeta hums sympathetically. Finnick works as a lifeguard and personal trainer at the local YMCA. The "rush" – his term for early fall, which brings about the inevitable swarm of people looking to get back in shape after summer vacation – is often instrumental in preventing him and Peeta from meeting up until late September or early October, when things at the school and the Y have settled down some. In reality, it's been almost a month since Peeta's last seen Finnick, one of his best friends, which most likely provides the incentive for Finnick's next words:

"We were actually just talking about you," Finnick says. Peeta raises an eyebrow curiously.

Annie places a hand on Finnick's arm. "Finnick, when you say it like that it just sounds creepy."

"Duly noted," her boyfriend admits.

"Anyways, Peeta," Annie says, "we're having a little get-together tonight" – Finnick mouths _party_ behind her back – "and it would be wonderful if you could come. It's only going to be a few close friends; we thought it would be nice to see everyone again, it's really been such a long time."

"There will be alcohol," Finnick interjects, and when Annie turns to death-glare at him, he grins and stuffs the last piece of bacon into his mouth. "I'm just saying. You can't leave out important things like that."

Annie rolls her eyes but doesn't argue. "Ignore him, Peeta. As I was say –"

"Peeta? Did you get a table?"

Katniss appears at his side, holding his smoothie and cream-cheese bagel out to him. Annie lights up. "Katniss!"

She's confused for a brief second, then: "Annie?"

Peeta makes a face at Finnick as Katniss shoves the rest of the food in his direction (he barely catches it) and rushes to embrace Annie, and the two begin speaking rapidly and excitedly; Finnick mirrors his expression. They wait, but after a couple minutes Finnick drags his girlfriend gently away, and Peeta pulls Katniss' arm to guide her back a couple steps.

"It's been so long!"

"I know, we really need to catch up sometime…"

"We should go out and get coffee, maybe?"

"That's such a great idea! When works for you?"

"I don't know, I'll have to check my calendar, but I'm definitely up for that…"

The elderly women are glowering at them again.

Finnick clears his throat impatiently and leans over to stage-whisper to Annie: "_How about you catch up at our _party_?_"

"Oh! Right," she says, brightening. "Katniss, we were just telling Peeta that we're having a little get-together tonight" – "_Party,_" coughs Finnick – "and we would just love if you could come. There'll be food, music, friends…"

"…beer," says Finnick. Annie elbows him in the stomach. "Ow! I'm just trying to help here!"

Katniss laughs and glances up at Peeta. Their mutual agreement is clear. "Yeah, we'd love to."

"Great!" Annie claps her hands excitedly. "We'll see you then! It starts at five, our place of course, but really, come whenever you like."

"We'd love you even more if you came bearing drinks," Finnick says, only half jokingly. Annie sighs.

* * *

They have some time to kill after breakfast. It's so nice outside that they're both reluctant to return to the apartment, so they end up downtown, which has lots of miscellaneous little stores. Katniss window-shops and Peeta complains whilst eating donuts, and they wander until finally they end up in the park.

The trees cast longer shadows over the sidewalk under their feet and the shade is welcome in the heat of the day. Peeta licks the last of his fifth donut off his fingers and shoves his hands into his pockets casually, while Katniss, slurping at the dregs of her iced frappuccino, skips slightly ahead of him. A single shopping bag – she bought some funny-sloganed T-shirt at a small boutique – dangles in the crook of her elbow and rustles pleasantly in time with the leaves, and the sun sends sharp shadows across her figure. Peeta grins at the youthfulness she exudes as she stops and points eagerly to a tall, gnarled tree to their left. "Hey, look!"

Katniss, even from a young age, has loved climbing trees and sitting up high, while Peeta always preferred solid ground – which ended up to his disadvantage during their prolific hide-and-seek games as children. It hasn't changed a bit now, so when she dumps her bag and empty cup in his arms and runs toward the tree, Peeta finds a trashcan and a nearby bench and sits, savoring the relief it brings to his body (he's been walking all morning). He watches as Katniss shimmies deftly up the branches, her small frame zigzagging intuitively upwards. Within moments, she's ten feet and rising.

Peeta stops tracking her progress as he surveys the rest of the park. It really does look beautiful – the old, huge trees, which jaggedly shoot branches high above to form a lush green canopy, are punctuated by a more-summer-than-fall, cerulean sky. Birds silhouette the sparse clouds and their cheerful song amplifies the tranquility with which they flit lazily through the air. The sun is a little too warm, but soothed by the breeze which whispers through the leaves.

He's interrupted from his reverie when Katniss reaches a break in the foliage and pokes her head out, smiling widely and happily. "Peeta! You coming, or do I need to make you?"

Peeta glances up and blinks. The beauty of nature has somehow transferred onto her: light streaming through the leaves hits her at just the right angle, highlighting her hair in shades of dark brown, an underlying black, and hints of red. Her eyes are ecstatically silver. Her features display such blissful innocence and euphoria that for one moment, Peeta is stunned.

Katniss Everdeen is _pretty_.

"Peeta?"

He blinks again at the sound of her voice, and when his eyes open, she's Katniss once more, mischievous Katniss who he grew up with, plain old Katniss, his best friend.

"Nah, I think I'll stay down here." He forces himself to sound normal, and he must do a pretty good job, because she shrugs.

"Suit yourself, scaredy-cat."

"Did you just call me a scaredy-cat?" Peeta stands.

She grins. "Maybe I did."

He lunges for the tree so fast he almost slams into it, and Katniss laughs when he fumbles to hoist himself onto the first branch. "You know, you have to be able to _climb_ this in order to catch me."

"Who said I can't?" he huffs, hearing the swish of leaves as she nimbly scrambles higher.

"I _know_ you can't," she taunts, twenty feet above him.

Peeta flails for and finally catches hold of another limb. "Do you want to test that?" He strains himself higher. "Because I think I'm making pretty good progress."

Suddenly, something hits him in the chest, and, unable to keep his balance as the breath is knocked from his lunges, he falls backwards, landing with an ungainly _thud_. Katniss, giggling hysterically, is sprawled on top of him.

"Fuck you," he groans. She buries her face in his chest, breathless with laughter.

"I… you… you just… _fell_… I _knew_ you couldn't even make it five feet in the air – !"

"Oh, you did not just say that," Peeta growls, and reaches up to grab her waist, digging his fingers into her sides and making her shriek.

"No! No tickling! Dammit, Peeta – no tickling!"

Katniss finally pulls away from his grasp, gasping for breath. She rolls off of him and onto her back in the grass. He's briefly aware of the abrupt lack of her warmth, and finds himself vaguely disappointed; he quenches that thought immediately while they lie there on the ground, staring up at the clear sky, squinting in the bright sunlight.

She's Katniss. She's his best friend.

Just Katniss. Nothing else.

* * *

**Thank you for reading!**

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